


Wounded

by romanticalgirl



Category: Dawson's Creek
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-11
Updated: 2014-02-11
Packaged: 2018-01-11 22:19:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1178628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticalgirl/pseuds/romanticalgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Originally posted 9/24/01</p>
    </blockquote>





	Wounded

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted 9/24/01

Pacey shifted uncomfortably on the couch and looked around the room. The walls were trimmed with forest green that matched the carpet, and the wood was all mahogany. He buried his hands under his legs, afraid to touch any of the knickknacks in the room for fear that one of them might mean something.

"You seem nervous." 

He shifted and shrugged at the same time, his hands still trapped. "A little." 

"You want to tell me why you're here?" 

"My dad thinks I should be." 

"You don't seem the type that necessarily does what your father thinks you should." 

His eyebrow shot up and he felt anger rise in him, but he damped it down with a drawn out sigh. "When you have a police escort, it's not as easy to get out of things." 

"So, you're here because your father made you come?" 

"Mostly." 

"Would you be here otherwise?" 

"No." 

"Why are you nervous?" 

"Jeez, I can't imagine," Pacey smirked. "Might have something to do with the fact that I'm in a goddamn shrink's office and I'm not quite sure why." 

"I think you are sure why, though, aren't you? And maybe that's why you're nervous?" 

Pacey shrugged. "Maybe." 

"Your father mentioned that your grades in school suddenly did a sharp turn around. Would you like to talk about that?" 

"No." 

"Do you have any friends?" 

"I've got friends." 

"Tell me about them." 

"There's Dawson." Pacey relaxed slightly, sliding his hands on top of his thighs. "He's my best friend. We've been friends for about ten years." 

"Anyone else?" 

"Yeah. Sure." Pacey nodded. "There's Joey." 

"Who's he?" 

Pacey gave a little laugh. "Joey's not a he. She's a she." 

"Is she your girlfriend?" 

This time his laugh was genuine. "Joey Potter? Yeah. She's my girlfriend. And they're having an ice cream sale in hell." 

"I'll guess that's a no?" 

"No. She's not my girlfriend. She's my best friend'swhatever. She's just a friend of mine." 

"Mmm-hmm." Pacey watched the notation go down on the tablet. "And anyone else?" 

"There's Jen." He shrugged. "She's new to town. She's a friend." 

"Anyone else?" 

"Not really." Pacey shrugged. "So, what does that tell you about me?" 

"It means you have three friends." 

"Yeah? Doesn't mean that I'm going to grow up and chop up the neighbors and keep them in the fridge?" 

"Well, it might, but I don't really see any indication of it." 

Pacey nodded, bouncing his feet on the floor before he looked at the clock. "So, I'm here for an hour?" 

"Yes." Pacey didn't respond. "So, do you like school, Pacey?" 

"School's fine." 

"You get along well with your teachers?" 

"Most of them." 

"What's your favorite subject?" 

"Gym." 

"Gym?" 

"Sure. It's mostly a slack-off class, and I get to watch the cheerleaders practice." He smirked. "Life doesn't get much better than short skirts, bouncing breasts, and tight sweaters." 

"You're fifteen, aren't you?" 

"Is that what you deduced from my sexist comment?" Pacey smirked. "Yeah. I'm fifteen. You know all this, don't you? Why don't you do us both a favor, save a little time, and just tell me what you know so that we can move on from there?" 

"It's not about what I know, Pacey. It's about what you'll tell me." 

"What if I don't tell you anything?" 

"Then we'll have wasted our time and your father's money." 

"Ah, you shouldn't have added that last bit on there. You've made it attractive all of a sudden." 

"You sound like you'd enjoying doing something that would put your father out." 

"Something like start a rumor about sleeping with my teacher?" Pacey grinned at the sudden tenseness in the room. "What? You didn't expect me to say anything? Come on, I started the rumor, didn't I? Why wouldn't I be willing to brag?" 

"Was it a rumor, Pacey?" 

"Of course. Did you ever see her? She's a stunning woman. I would wager a guess that every 15-year-old in the class was beating off to her at night." 

"Is that what you did?" 

"Ah, you must be a Freudian." 

"Why do you say that?" 

"I mentioned masturbation and your eyes lit up. Either you're Freudian or horny." He shrugged again. "The next sentence is key." 

"How so?" 

"Well, if you ask me about my mother, you're a Freudian. If you ask me about Miss Jacobs, you're horny." 

"What if I ask you about you?" 

"Well, it might mean you're gay. Or Jungian." Pacey grinned at the answering chuckle, the bright smile fading at the next remark. 

"It means a lot to you to be witty, doesn't it?" 

"Ah, you know, you can save the class clown spiel. I've heard that all through school, and I can probably recite it for you and save your breath. But, to answer you, yes. Wit implies intelligence. Anyone can play a practical joke," Pacey stared out the window. 

"But to put the whole town in an uproar, get the school board to convene an emergency meeting, almost get someone thrown into jailthose things take wit?" 

"They take intelligence." 

"And then standing up and telling everyone that it was all a lie? What does that take, Pacey?" 

"Exactly that." He shrugged. "It takes Pacey Witter." He looked at the clock and stood up. "My hour's over." 

"See you next week." 

"Yeah." Pacey opened the door. "Maybe." 

~**~

"So, you're back." 

"I kind of have to be." 

"Ah, the escort?" 

"Yup." He sank down on the couch and scratched at a stain on his jeans. "He even walked me to the door. That was extra special." 

"You don't like your father much, do you?" 

"Depends. If I say no, I don't, are you going to assume I have an Oedipal complex and tell me all my problems stem from being in love with my mother?" 

"It might explain your need to create an elaborate fantasy about an older woman." 

"Okay, first of all? I'm not in love with my mother. My mother and I get by pretending the other doesn't exist. It works well for us." 

"Even though you're the youngest? Most mothers are protective of their youngest." 

"My mother's idea of protection is to tell my father I'm not worth the time it would take to punish me." Pacey watched for reaction, shrugging when he didn't get any. "As for creating an elaborate fantasy about an older woman, I will simply refer you to the newspaper when the scandal broke so you can take a look at Miss Jacobs yourself." 

"Did you call her Miss Jacobs when you fantasized about her?" 

"Pardon?" Pacey looked up, his blue eyes tinged with fear. "What?" 

"In your fantasies. When you made all this up in your head? Did you call her Miss Jacobs then?" 

"No." 

"What did you call her?" 

"Tamara." He shifted uncomfortably, then got up from his seat, walking over to one of the bookcases that lined the walls. "It'd be pretty weird to have ana fantasy about her and call her Miss Jacobs. Don't you think?" 

"I think fantasies can be weird sometimes. They don't always make sense." He shrugged and watched as Pacey looked over the titles. "And now you can tell me I'm Jungian again, if you'd like." 

"I still think you're Freudian. You're just trying to throw me off the scent." Pacey picked up a book that was lying on its side and leafed through it before sliding it back into its proper space on the shelf. 

"Why did you do that?" 

"What?" He looked up, genuinely surprised. "Did I do something? What did it tell you about me?" 

"If I knew what it told me about you, I probably wouldn't have asked why you did it." He chuckled. "You put the book away, even though it was lying out. Why did you do it?" 

"Everything else is in place." Pacey gestured around the nearly spotless room. "No loose files on your desk for prying eyes, no pieces of paper with incriminating phrases scrawled on them." He shrugged. "I thought it looked out of place, I put it back. I'd be happy to put it back like it was." 

"Do you like to read, Pacey?" 

"If I say yes, do you have any intention of giving me homework?" 

He laughed, "No. Not at all." 

"It's okay. Reading. I'd ratherbe out there, though. Living." 

"Do you do well in school?" 

"I was for a while." 

"Now?" 

"Not so much." Pacey shrugged. "It's what my family expects though, so no big deal. It just makes it easier for them to be embarrassed by me." 

"You don't feel any need to prove them wrong?" 

"I could do superhuman feats of good and my family would think that I wasn't trying hard enough." 

He watched as Pacey came back to the couch and sat down, picking up an antique wooden compass from the table. "You know that everything you tell me is done in complete confidence, don't you?" 

"My father is paying the bill." He looked up, his finger tracing the soft etches in the wood. "You'll have to forgive me if I find you a little suspect." 

"Your father does pay me for my time," he agreed. "But I don't give him anything in return. No notes, no information, nothing. He assumes that by seeing me, you're getting better, getting help." 

"And if it doesn't work?" 

"Whether or not it works is entirely up to you." He watched Pacey avoid his gaze, staring at the compass. "This doesn't work unless you trust me, Pacey. And I can't make you trust me." 

"If I trust you, and I'm not saying that I do, but if I trust youwhat would we talk about?" 

"Whatever you'd like. I'd probably ask pointed questions about your family and your schoolwork and your friends. I might lead you in certain directions to get to the root of whatever is bothering you." 

"Bothering my father, you mean. I'm actually pretty fine with everything in my life." 

"It doesn't bother you to have people in the town look at you, wondering if you lied or if you told the truth?" 

"I told the truth about lying." Pacey set the compass down and got up again, this time walking to the window and staring out at the bleak afternoon. It was raining. It seemed like it rained a lot lately. "And if what people thought was important to me, I wouldn't be the Pacey J. Witter you see standing before you." 

"I'd like to get to know the Pacey J. Witter standing before me." 

"I'm actually sort of standing behind you and to the left." He laughed quietly. "I'm not that great once you get to know me." 

"Most people aren't, Pacey. But once you get to know them, you're sort of stuck with them." 

Pacey sighed and nodded, moving back to the couch. "Our hour's up." 

"Will I see you next week?" 

"I don't have much choice." 

"Will you talk to me next week?" 

"That I have a choice about." Pacey grabbed his jacket and slid it on. "But I'm not sure that I have an answer yet." 

~**~

"So, do you work with people in all the police cases? Is that how my dad knows you?" 

"I do help out the police from time to time, dealing with victims of crimes. I also help any officers that need someone to talk to." He smiled as Pacey sat on the couch, setting his jacket beside him. "But they're not the whole of my business. I see other clients as well." 

"Teenagers?" 

"Often teenagers need the most help. They're not taken seriously by most adults, so they feel they don't have an outlet. I try and provide it." 

"Hmmm." 

"Do you have an answer?" 

Pacey chewed his lower lip contemplatively for a moment. "Okay, I'll talk to you. But I won't promise anything. If I don't want to say it, you won't make me." 

"Fair enough." 

"And I won't look at anything weird. No inkblots. Because I'm a fifteen year old guy and every single one of them will make me think of something sexual, so deal with that on your own time, Freud." 

"Fair enough." He took a sip of his coffee. "Where would you like to start?" 

"Aren't you supposed to do that? Pick my brain about stuff?" Pacey shifted, slightly nervous. "Is there water? Or something to drink?" 

"Of course. In the small fridge over on the wall." He waited until Pacey had selected a soda and opened it. "Why don't we start with your friends? Tell me about them." 

"My friends? What do my friends have to do with anything?" 

"I'm curious as to how you see your friends. And how you think they see you." 

Pacey took a long sip from the can, watching warily as he moved back to the couch. "Okay." 

"Tell me about" he leafed through his notes quickly. "Dawson." 

"Dawson?" 

"Or would you rather start somewhere else?" 

"Dawson's fine. Dawson'sDawson's the son my father wishes he had. Dawson does everything right. Dawson's life is practically perfect. I mean, he was fifteen before anything even remotely traumatic happened in his life. He's got two of the most beautiful girls in town in love with him. I mean, he leads a charmed life." 

"How do you feel about that?" 

"How do I feel about it?" He shrugged. "Good for him, you know? But he's completely clueless. He's got the hots for Jen, but he's freaked out by her past. He doesn't even realize that Joey's had a crush on him sinceI don't know, like, birth. His parents are in the midst of some weirdseparation or argument or something. I feel for the guy." 

"Does he feel for you?" 

"That's not Dawson's job." 

"He's your friend, isn't he?" 

Pacey's tone was slightly defensive. "You don't understand the nature of my relationship with Dawson Leery. His job isn't to feel for me. His job is to have a nice, easy life that I can come and co-opt for a few hours." 

"You want your life to be like Dawson's?" 

"His parents actually acted like they loved each other. They do everything for him, even more so now that their marriage has dissolved. He has pretty much everything he wants, he knows what he wants to do with his life, he's got two girls in love with him" 

"That's twice now that you've mentioned the girls." 

"I'm reiterating why I would like my life to be like Dawson's. I've mentioned that I'm fifteen. Girls are a very big part of that." 

"These girls in particular?" 

"I thought we were talking about Dawson." 

"You don't think Dawson has problems?" 

"He does." Pacey took another sip from the soda can. "Everybody does. His don't involve his parents ignoring him or telling him he's the lowest of the low. His problems have never once included having a hard time in school. His problems have never dealt with" 

"With what?" 

"Potential prosecution." 

"Why do I have the feeling that wasn't what you originally intended to say?" 

"You're the shrink, why ask me?" 

"Do you think you're not attractive to girls, Pacey? Is that why you made up this elaborate fantasy about Miss Jacobs?" 

"We're not the popular group of kids. Joey and Dawson and I have always just sort of hung around each other. So there's not a lot of outside girl contact." He took another sip, another pause. "Jen's new, but she's more into the leading man, blond guy thing than the goofy sidekick." 

"Is that what you are? The goofy sidekick?" 

"Sure. Dawson's the star of the show. He's got the TV-show quality life. I'm more an inter-urban documentary for HBO. Either that or stand-up on Comedy Central." He set the can down for the first time on a coaster. "Maybe, if I pick up an instrument, I can be on Behind the Music." He watched him smile. "See? Comedy. It's what I do. It's even my section at the video store." 

"So, your friend Dawson has close to the perfect life. And you guys hang around each other?" 

"I hang around him hoping that some of that perfect will rub off. Or that I can pretend that my life isn't quite so sucky when I'm not around it. As for why he hangs around mewell, I'd guess it's probably the reverse. Next to me, even his worst day has to seem pretty damn good, don't you think?" 

"Do you like Dawson?" 

"What?" 

"You say you've been friends for years, but nothing in what you've said has suggested that you actually like him. It sounds to me like you hang around with Dawson because he'll let you. That's not much of a friendship, don't you think?" 

He was instantly defensive. "It works for us." 

"Perhaps I'm interpreting this incorrectly," he shrugged noncommittally. 

"I like Dawson. He's a decent guy. A little megalomaniacal, but a good guy." Pacey picked up the empty can and played with it. "And I make him look even better by comparison." 

"Tell me something you've done for Dawson." 

"I was in his movie." 

"Something personal." 

"I helped him pull off a coup in his filmmaking class. He needed a wheelchair and a dolly grip. I got him both. Or I got him one and was the other." 

"Tell me something Dawson has done for you." 

"I've been going to Dawson's house since I was five years old. They took me in, they fed me, they gave me a place to sleep whenever I needed one. He's been like a brother to me. He's never once made me feel unwelcome or unwanted." 

"Unlike your own family?" 

Pacey got to his feet and grabbed his jacket, already at the door by the time he spoke. "The hour's up." 

~**~

"I'm surprised you're here, escort or not." 

"I am too." Pacey closed the door and leaned against it, his hand still on the knob. "I wasn't going to come." 

"Did your dad walk you to the door?" 

"No. My brother, Doug. I'm surprised he hasn't been in here confessing his deepest, darkest secrets to you." 

"You think Doug has secrets?" 

"Even if he does, you can't tell me about them, right? Doctor-patient confidentiality?" 

"That's correct." 

"Are we done with Dawson?" 

"For now. Unless you'd like to take about him some more?" 

"No." 

"What would you like to talk about?" 

"I don't know." 

"What about Joey?" He watched Pacey's eyes shift nervously. "Or Jen?" 

"Jen's new in town." Pacey moved away from the door, but stayed away from the couch. "Beautiful, blonde, been around." 

"Do you like her?" 

"Like a friend? Or like I want to see exactly how much Miss New York actually knows?" 

"Either? Both?" 

"Nah. Jen'sJen's like me. A little, on the outside. She's got some serious stuff in her life that she's got to figure out, she got shipped here to Capeside to do it. But she's trying to do it in the midst of making out with the boy next door." 

"Are you jealous that she's interested in Dawson?" 

"Not at all. Dawson needs someone like Jen, someone who knows what she's doing and what she wants. Dawson's not exactly the kind of guy who isballsy enough to grab for what he wants." 

"And you are?" 

"More than Dawson." 

"So you didn't want Jen? Because you didn't grab for her?" 

"I had other things on my mind." 

"Something else? Or someone else? Someone else you grabbed for?" He watched as Pacey shoved his hands into his pockets, hiding their nervous movements. "Joey, perhaps?" 

"Potter?" Pacey's voice was laced with incredulity. "Me? Go after Joey Potter? Are you nuts?" 

"That's the common consensus when it comes to psychiatrists." He chuckled. "Why would going after Joey Potter be nuts?" 

"First of all, she's in love with Dawson. Second of all, she's been in love with him since they met. Third, she thinks I'm one step above pond scum, and that's only because I give her a discount at the video store." 

"All of those sound like reasons Joey wouldn't be interested in you. Why would it be so bad for you to be interested in her?" 

"You mean other than the fact that she would not be interested in me in the slightest?" Pacey smirked. "Because we all know that shouldn't be a factor because all teenaged boys have such great defenses against rejection." 

"Do you think she could find you attractive?" 

"No. She's more interested in the golden boy. Besides, I'm not interested in her. She's a nice enough friend, but" 

"You just said she barely tolerated you. Do you consider her a friend?" 

"She's there when I need her to be. She knows what it's like to feel like everyone's deserted you." 

"Do you think that's why she likes Dawson? Does he provide her with the same sense of belonging that he gives you?" 

"You'd really have to psychoanalyze Joey for the answer to that one." 

"I just asked you your interpretation of her relationship with your mutual friend." 

"I think she wants to be the girl that Dawson wants. And she's been his best friend through mutual baths in the tub and his first morning erection, and so she doesn't know how to be that." Pacey shrugged. "They'll figure it all out, as soon as Dawson figures out that he's got the hots for her too." 

"Do you think he does?" 

"I think that he'll convince himself of it, even if he doesn't." 

"Why do you say that?" 

"Because Dawson Leery is an incurable romantic." 

"What about Pacey Witter?" 

"He's been cured." 

There was a long pause, during which Pacey walked the length of the room, his eyes darting over to the chair, waiting for something to be said. "Perhaps, since you are fifteen and have reminded me of the fact several times, the question is moot, but do you fantasize about them?" 

"Dawson and Joey?" 

"Joey and Jen. Together or separate?" 

"Some. Not really." 

"And yet you did about Miss Jacobs?" 

"She was unattainable." 

"And Joey and Jen aren't?" 

"Jen's not. Joeymaybe. I don't think my parents would appreciate me dating the daughter of a known felon." 

"And you wouldn't want to upset your father any further?" When Pacey didn't respond, he kept talking. "Yet you spread a rumor about something that would invariably lead you into some sort of confrontation with him. Why is that, do you think?" Pacey looked at him for a second, almost ready to answer. "Our time's up. See you next week." 

~**~

Pacey glanced at the clock as he shut the door behind him. "Sorry I'm late." 

"Your escort not show up?" 

"No. I mean, he did. I justyou're not the only punishment I received for my ill-chosen comments." 

"Is this a punishment for you? Is that how you see it?" 

"Not exactly." Pacey shrugged out of his coat and ran his hands through his short hair. "I don't think it's ever rained so much in Capeside." 

"You like the rain?" 

"Yeah. Makes everything feel new." Pacey hung the coat up on one of a series of hooks on the wall behind the door and moved to the couch. "My dad says it brings out the idiots and the criminals, so I guess it's only fitting that I like it." 

"Which does your father think you are?" 

"Right now? An idiot. But I bet he's laying money down on the criminal record. He and my brother are probably taking bets as we speak." 

"Tell me about your sisters." 

"What's to tell? Two of them are married. Husband, kids, the whole works. I suppose they're happy. They're older, so we never had much contact, other than them screaming at me to get out of their rooms and leave their friends alone." 

"How many sisters do you have?" 

"Three. The third one is Gretchen. She just graduated. She went off to college. We've always gotten along pretty well." 

"And your brother Doug?" 

"Doug's a dickhead." 

"Why do you say that?" 

"Mostly because he is one." 

"You might have to be a little more definitive in your terms then." 

"He's the golden boy of the family, right? He's the son my father always wanted. Doug is perfect. He's a cop, just like Dad. He's an asshole, just like dad." 

"Are you jealous of Doug?" 

"You mean do I want to be the apple of my daddy's eye?" 

"Do you want to be looked at the same way your brother is looked at?" 

"I want my father to act like my mother and pretend I don't exist. I want him to close his eyes to anything I do and say. I want him to just keep living his life and let me live mine." 

"How do you feel about Doug? Not how your father sees him, but Doug himself." 

"DougI used to look up to him, you know? But then as he got older, he got more like my father. He would find the things I did wrong. I mean, if I got a 98 on a test, Doug would focus on the two things I didn't get right." Pacey cleared his throat and sat up on the edge of the cushion. "At first it started as a way to help me, you know? He'd focus on that and help me work on those two things. But thenit just descended into this opportunity to remind me of how stupid I am, how much of a disgrace I am." 

"You said you used to look up to him. What changed?" 

"I grew up? I wasn't who he wanted for a little brother? I don't know. He changed. I changed. No one lived happily ever after." 

"Are your parents happy?" 

"Mom brings Dad his beer while he's watching the game. They don't seem to complain." 

"I didn't ask you that." 

"If you're asking whether or not I know if they're still doing the horizontal tango, I have no desire to answer that question. No desire to even have the question in my brain." 

"Do they do things together? Do they touch?" 

"I don't observe my parents. I wake up, I grab a Pop-tart, and I get the hell out of there. I come home, eat dinner and go to bed. There's not a lot of familial interaction." 

"Have they ever hurt you?" 

"What?" 

"Abused you?" 

"No. Funo." Pacey shook his head. "My dad's not that stupid. He's a cop. A good cop. Even if he is an asshole." 

"What about Doug?" 

"Does Doug beat me?" 

"Yes." 

"No." 

"Has he ever threatened you?" 

Pacey stopped for a moment, looking around the room, suddenly feeling trapped. "Whwhat do you mean?" 

"Has Doug ever threatened you? Physically?" 

"I'm not afraid of Dougie." 

"That's not what I asked you, Pacey." 

He shifted uncomfortably on the couch, swallowing hard. A quick glance at the clock told him there would be no timely reprieve. "Once. Maybe." 

"What did he do?" 

"Nothing. I mean, I sort of provoked it. And he wasn't serious. It was justI need some air." He got off the couch and headed for the window. "Can I open this?" 

"Certainly." 

He lifted the pane, feeling a cool breeze almost immediately, tinged with the damp smell of rain. Nothing cleansing about it now. "We were goofing around. Playing a game or something. He pulled out his gun. But I knew he'd never use it." 

"Why did he pull a gun on you?" 

"I was embarrassing him." 

"Embarrassing him? Seems like a drastic response." 

"In front of someone that hehe liked, I guess. And I made him seemunattractive." 

"A woman?" 

"Yes." 

"What did you say?" 

"I told her that he was gay." 

"Is he?" 

"Nah. It's something I do He hates it and it makes him angry." 

"Is anger the emotion you want from him?" 

"It's the one I know how to deal with." Pacey closed the window, shivering suddenly. "When Doug's mad, he's easy to manipulate. When he's quiet, I don't know where I stand with him. I don't know if the next sentence is going to be an attack or something else." 

"Something else?" 

"Sometimes he's nice to me. And I don't quite know how to deal with it. Like sometimes he'll act like a brother should." 

"He is your brother." 

"No. Not really. Not in the ways it matters." 

"Who was the woman?" 

He closed his eyes, knowing that it would all come to this, that everything else was just a maze to lead him to this particular trap. "What woman?" 

"The woman you embarrassed Doug in front of." 

"Nobody." 

"Why did you embarrass him? Was it because you wanted Doug to be embarrassed? Or because you wanted to look good next to Doug? You wanted to look clever? Or, perhaps, you wanted to be seen as the better choice between the two of you?" 

"I just wanted to embarrass Doug." 

"Who was she, Pacey?" 

He glanced at the clock and sighed in relief, heading for his coat beside the door. "Time's up." 

"This question won't go away." 

Pacey turned the doorknob but didn't open the door. "You know the answer to the question." 

"You need to answer the question, Pacey." 

The door opened. "Not today." 

~**~

"Tell me about Miss Jacobs." 

"She was my English teacher. She's beautiful. She left town. The end." 

"She tutored you, didn't she?" 

"For a very short time." 

"What were you studying?" 

"Ethan Frome." 

"Did you like the book?" 

"Not particularly." 

"Yet you did very well on your test." 

"I studied hard." 

"You weren't a particularly good student in English before then, yet with her as your teacher, you did exceptionally well." 

"It was the first time I'd had anyone take the time to tutor me. Besides, I've already admitted to fantasizing about her, I figured she'd be more attracted to someone smart." 

"Did you really think she'd be attracted to you?" 

"It was a fantasy. I wasn't actually working from logic here." 

"So you did well to impress her?" 

"I guess." He shrugged. 

"Did it work?" 

"You mean did she throw everything off her desk, strip down, and take my virginity there in the classroom?" 

"Was she attracted to you?" 

"Shehumored me." 

"How so?" 

"She knew that I was interested in her, and she used that to keep me motivated." 

"Did she promise you anything? Sex?" 

"No. She justshe just encouraged me." He looked down at his hands. "She never did anything that would make me think that she returned my interest whatsoever. She was a complete professional and acted in that manner in all our dealings." 

"That sounds like quite the rehearsed answer, Pacey. Why didn't you want her to be attracted to Doug?" 

"Because I was hot for her, man." Pacey snapped. "And the last thing I wanted to think about was my brother all over her." 

"Or her all over your brother?" 

"She wasn't like that." 

"No?" 

"She wasn't aggressive." Pacey looked away. "Notnot in my head, anyway." 

"Were you afraid that seeing her with Doug would shatter the image of her you'd built up in your mind?" 

"Maybe." 

"Did she show any interest in Doug during their meeting?" 

"No. None at all." 

"Why don't you tell me about it?" 

"I'd rather not." 

"Then tell me about the school board hearing. Tell me about what you said." 

"It was during the hurricane. Doug had forced me to help him get the beaches ready. We ended up by her house" 

"Deliberately?" 

"She had a beach house." Pacey chewed on his thumbnail. "We were on the beach. Completely coincidental. Doug and I offered to help her get the house battened down. DougDoug was flirting, which is really not a pretty sight." 

"How did you feel about that?" 

"It was pretty laughable, actually. He's not really good at it." He moved to the flesh of his thumb, scraping his teeth across it. "But she was pretty nice about it. Didn't laugh in his face or anything." 

"Did she encourage it?" 

"I don't" 

"Maybe to make you jealous?" 

"She didn't feel" 

"Or did she maybe really like Doug's attention? Did she encourage it in order to discourage you, Pacey? Did she act like she wanted Doug to show some interest in her so that, perhaps, you'd realize that what you felt for her was beyond the realm of possibility?" 

"Tammy wasn't like that." 

The room was suddenly silent. Pacey was breathing hard, one hand clenched into a fist in his lap, the other gripping the couch. 

"She wasn't mean like that. She knew I had a thing for her. But she wouldn't do that. Not to me." 

"Why not to you?" 

"She wasn't cruel. She let me down easy about stuff." Pacey tried to force himself to relax. "She was nice to me." 

"How nice?" 

"She treated me like a love-sick, high school kid with a crush. She didn't try to hurt my feelings; she just told me flat out that it wasn't going to work. It wasn't right." 

"And you wanted to do the right thing?" 

"Hell no. I wanted to touch her. I wanted to grab her and kiss her and do everything she'd let me do to her. I wanted to sneak over to her beach house as soon as it got dark and lie in her bed and listen to her read books to me then quiz me on what she'd read. I wanted to undress her slowly and have her teach me how to make her feel good." He stood up, his anger flaring. "That's what a fantasy is. That's what it was. It wasn't real and it wasn't right and it justwasn't." 

"Did you love her?" 

"How can you love someone you just fantasize about?" He refused to look at him. "You can't. They're not really real. Not to you. Right?" 

"I didn't ask you if you could, Pacey. I asked you if you did." 

"Time's up." Pacey stood up and headed for the door. "And I only had to do six. This is six." 

"It's okay if the answer is yes, Pacey. I'm sure she felt something for you too." 

"She was just a fantasy of mine. I was nothing to her. Just someone who cost her a job she loved." Pacey stood in the door, shifting from foot to foot, obviously eager to leave. "That's all it was." 

The last sentence sounded so much like a plea that he sighed. "What you tell me stays in this room, Pacey." 

"That's all it was. I swear." 

"Pacey." 

"No gorgeous 35-year-old woman is going to fall for a dorky, stupid 15-year-old. She could have had her choice of men." 

"But she chose you, didn't she?" 

"I have to go." 

The door slammed shut behind him as he rushed from the room. Session over. 

~**~

There was a knock at the door before it opened, allowing Pacey to ease into the room. He shut the door behind him and leaned against it, his eyes unsure. 

"Hello, Pacey." 

"My dad paid for everything before." He chewed his lower lip for a long minute, making decisions in his mind. "I'm paying for today." 

"My loyalty is to my client, no matter who foots the bills." 

"I caught holy hell when I got home last time. About Doug and the gun. There's only one way they could have known about that." 

"I asked your brother if he'd ever met Miss Jacobs before the school board hearing. He got a little upset. I apologize if he believed you'd told me something." 

"He thought I told you he was gay. That's his big fear now, that you're going to haul him into this room and ask him what it's like in his closet." He shoved his hands in his pockets and moved over to the couch slowly. Even when he sank down onto the cushions he looked nervous, ready to bolt. "Doug'sthat's not why I'm here. I've dealt with Doug and my father all my life." 

"Why are you here?" 

"I was afraid that maybe I'd given you the wrong impression last time. I was afraid that maybe you thought that something might have actually happened between TaMiss Jacobs and me. And nothing did. It's important that you know that." 

"You paid an awful lot of money to tell me something you'd reinforced in six earlier sessions." 

"She's a really nice lady who took it upon herself to help out a struggling kid. And she got repaid in embarrassment and shame. I did that to her." 

"She had to know that being with you could lead to those things." 

"She wasn't with me." 

"She was spending time with you," he told him gently. "After school. On weekends. You spent an inordinate amount of time together, Pacey. She had to know that that amount of attention might draw some curiosity." 

"That kind of attention can easily be explained away by my grades. I was doing very well in school when she was tutoring me. My grades were the best they'd ever been." 

"Unfortunately, our society tends to believe the more lurid explanations." 

"If she and I had been doing anything other than studying, I wouldn't have done as well in school." 

"She was a teacher, Pacey. She had certain requirements she had to meet and that would mean that she would have to focus her energies on her job from time to time. Not to mention the very delicate nature of meeting a teenage boy for private time." 

"Why is it people always say 'not to mention' right before they mention something?" 

"I don't know." 

"She told me from the start that my infatuation with her was wrong. That I needed to get over it and over myself. I needed to just deal with the fact that she was older and my teacher and it just wasn't going to happen." 

"Did you get over it?" 

"No." He chuckled sadly. "It would have saved both of us a lot of pain if I had. But when I first met her? For five minutes in my life, I thought she was attracted to me. And when you're fifteen, that's pretty heady stuff. So I decided that the next time I saw her, I was going to show her what she was missing." 

"What did you do?" 

"I found out she was my English teacher." 

"When you fantasized about her, Pacey, did you build just a sexual relationship?" 

"No. She loved me. She had to love me, don't you think?" He looked up, looking for the first time since he'd walked through the door four weeks ago like a lost little kid. "I mean, sex is easy. Sex is a hard-on in the middle of the night that you deal with using a Penthouse magazine." 

"You wanted someone to love you, didn't you?" 

"It'd have been nice for a change." 

"Did she love you?" 

"Yeah." Pacey nodded, then shook his head. "In my head. She did." 

"What did you want to tell me today, Pacey?" 

"I just wanted to make sure that you knew that none of it was real." He managed a weak smile. "Just the misguided talk of a stupid kid. I opened my mouth someplace I shouldn't have, and it spread like wildfire." 

"Rumors do." 

"But I did what I could to rectify the situation. I told everyone the truth. I told everyone that I lied." 

"You told the truth about lying." 

"Yeah." 

"The testimony of the young man who says he originally heard the rumor indicated that you were talking to a friend and telling him that you wanted to go away with her for a weekend." 

"I was pretty deeply involved in my fantasy, man." 

"And was Dawson?" 

"Dawson humored me." 

"Pacey?" 

He shook his head. "I just wanted to make sure you know it was a lie. It was all a lie. She was nice to me and I hurt her. All she was trying to do was make me a better student." 

"Are you a virgin, Pacey?" 

"What?" 

"Are you a virgin?" 

"You mean have I ever had sex?" 

"That's what it means." 

"What does that have to do with anything?" 

"Call it curiosity." 

"I've been masturbating for about three years." 

"That's not what I asked you, Pacey. I asked you if you are a virgin." He continued to hold Pacey's gaze. "Have you ever engaged in sexual intercourse with either a man or a woman?" 

"I'm not gay." 

"That's not even an answer to half the question, Pacey." 

"No." He shook his head. "I mean, no, it's not an answer. I know that." 

"Do you have an answer?" 

"I'm not." He got off the couch and walked over to the window, casting one quick glance over his shoulder to see if he was being observed. "I've had sex. With a girl. Not a guy." 

"What about your friends? Are they virgins?" 

"Why does that matter?" 

"It doesn't." 

"Then why ask?" 

"You don't have to answer." 

"Jen's not. Dawson and Joey are." Pacey spoke softly. "Saving themselves for each other, most likely." 

"Did you sleep with Jen? Is that how you lost your virginity?" 

"No. Jen's interested in Dawson. I told you that." 

"You also told me that you're a gang of outsiders. I'm just wondering who you had sex with." 

"No one you know." 

"Someone at camp, maybe? Someone down for the summer? Someone you met at school? In the video store?" 

"If you and the girl are drunk enough, it doesn't matter if you're an outsider or not." 

"You were drunk?" 

"I didn't say that." 

"The girl was?" 

"I didn'tI think I should go now." 

"Pacey?" He watched him walk to the door, stopping before he turned the handle. "No one made you come today." 

"Have you ever wanted something so bad that you could practically taste it?" Pacey put his hand on the smooth surface of the door and closed his eyes. "Something that you knew you couldn't or shouldn't have, but you can't keep yourself from wanting it?" He didn't wait for a response, didn't expect one. "I saw her and I fell in love or lust or whatever with her. She was gorgeous. Blonde and built and she had that kind of sultry sexuality that you see in all those old southern movies, you know? Like Streetcar Named Desire or Cat on a Hot Tin Roof. She was completely at ease with herself, and I was practically stumbling over myself to make her notice me." 

"Did she?" 

"She didn't have much choice." 

"Did she appreciate the attention?" 

"I think maybe it was flattering. And maybe that made me think that something could come of it." 

"Did anything come of it, Pacey?" 

"She was really nice to me, you know that? I mean, she was the first person who seemed to see worth where everyone else saw worthless. She spent time with me on my studying so that I wouldn't feel like such a loser. She encouraged me to work hard and be a better student, a better person. She was trying to make me feel better about myself and all the while, I was falling in love with her." 

"She sounds like a very nice lady." 

"She is. She was. And she is. A lady. Not someone who would take advantage of a student in any way." 

"What if the student didn't think she was taking advantage of him? What if the student wanted it as well?" 

"She was nice to me when no one else seemed to notice or care. Here we were, entering high school for the first time, and Dawson was so wrapped up in kissing Jen, and Joey was watching them with a mixture of lust and hatred, and all of a sudden, I was even more of a fifth wheel than ever before. I mean, there are only three sides to a triangle, right?" 

"So you were feeling lost?" 

"I was feeling unnecessary." 

"Did she make you feel needed?" 

"Miss Jacobs and I were nothing more than teacher and student." 

"What did she teach you, Pacey?" 

His voice broke on a barely masked sob. "English." 

There was a long silence as he watched the young man struggle not to cry, watched him fight against the desire to tell and the need to keep quiet. The answers that he wanted, that he'd asked for were there in his manner and demeanor and the stark sadness in his blue eyes. "Our time's almost up, Pacey." 

He nodded, sniffing and wiping his nose as he did so. "She was nice to me. Can that be what you tell my dad?" 

"I don't intend to tell your father anything, Pacey." 

"Why do people lie, do you think?" 

"There's a myriad of reasons why people lie, Pacey. For self-interest, for appearances, for greed, for gain. People lie because they think it's the right thing to do. People lie to cover their ass. People lie to hide the truth. People lie." 

"People lie to protect peopleother people, don't they?" 

"Yes." 

"She left town right after the school board hearing." 

"I know." 

"I think I made it worse, getting up there in front of all those people and telling them that I lied. That I was spreading rumors. I think I embarrassed her." 

"You saved her job, Pacey. You did a pretty noble thing." 

"I lied." 

"About lying? Or about everything?" 

"She's still teaching, which is good. She cares about her students." 

"I'm sure she cared about you, Pacey." 

"Yeah." He smiled, his eyes empty of everything. "My hour was up ten minutes ago. You should have said something." 

"It didn't seem necessary." 

"People move on all the time." 

"They do." 

"I'm not coming back." 

"I didn't expect that you were." 

"Do you think you know everything now?" 

"Not at all. I know what you were willing to tell me." He smiled gently. "Do you think you told me everything you needed to?" 

"Is it wrong? When you love someone?" 

"No." 

He watched as Pacey stood up and walked to the door, looking back with tears glimmering in his eyes. "When they love you?" 

And then he was gone.


End file.
